Magnificent
by GryffindorCriss
Summary: Queenie feels self-conscious towards the end of her pregnancy. Jacob sets things straight.


**Alright, guys, I'm really not used to writing Jacob x Queenie as a main pairing – up until now I've always written it as a background couple in Newt/Tina stories. But I really do ship Jacob and Queenie – I still cry every time I think of their kiss in the rain, of how pure their love is. It's so beautiful.**

 **This was prompted by me wondering how Queenie might think of herself when she and Jacob were expecting their first child; women tend to get larger, their feet swell, and it's not uncommon to feel unattractive towards the end of a pregnancy. Of course, Jacob would think she's perfect no matter what, so I felt like writing fluff.**

 **This ended up being far more explicit than I intended. I literally had no control over what I was writing, it just came out (wrong choice of words OMG) so I hope that's not a problem for any of you.**

 **This is in the same universe as my Newt/Tina stories, by the way. First time writing Jacob/Queenie, so be nice! (and, yes, I blushed writing the implied sex, I can't help it)**

* * *

A record with a pretty tune was warbling in the apartment when Jacob walked through the door that evening, tired but pleased from a busy day's work at the bakery; as silly as it sounded, it would never cease to amaze him how excited customers would get over the sight of his pastries, from the Demiguise cookies to the Erumpent muffins.

"Queenie, I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen, honey!"

With a grin, Jacob moved through their apartment to the kitchen; his wife – his _beautiful,_ absolutely _perfect_ wife – was by the stove, humming to herself as she waved her wand to prepare dinner. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she smiled widely.

"Good day at work?" He had barely nodded before she giggled to herself. " _Of course_ it was busy – you make the most _amazing_ things."

The double meaning of that didn't elude him; the hand not holding a wand was resting on her belly, swollen with their first child. They had both been so ecstatic when they found out, eager to have a family of their own – even if the laws set by MACUSA still made it forbidden.

"I made strudel for desert," Queenie informed him, pointing her wand at a pot on the stove that bubbled. "I've been craving it all day – and I know you prefer it anyway…oh, even the smell of it…"

"It smells wonderful," He agreed, and he walked to stand behind her; she let out a loud laugh when he slipped his arms around her waist, feeling the bump that was their unborn baby, and held her. "Only…what, a month now?"

"A month," She agreed, leaning back against him. "A month, and then we'll really be a family."

* * *

Queenie honestly did enjoy being pregnant; just knowing that this bump was the start of their family, a new life, was incredible – it was something that she and Jacob had made together, despite all of the rules and laws opposing them, something that they could grow and nurture.

Having said that, it was difficult to really feel _beautiful_ when your feet were swollen and your back ached if you stood for more than five minutes.

She could no longer fit into her dainty little slips, confined to looser nightgowns now, and it was absolutely _impossible_ to wear high-heeled shoes when going out – the last time she had attempted it had been and Newt and Tina's wedding when she was five months along, and she had nearly sprained her ankle going down a set of steps. To make matters worse, she could no longer _see_ her feet at all, let alone put nice shoes on.

There was more to life than being pretty, she knew, and that being kind and brave were far greater qualities than being attractive – but all the same, it _did_ make her feel slightly put out.

Because of her growing pregnancy – and it really was a difficult thing to hide – Queenie had had to take an undetermined amount of time on leave from MACUSA; her and Jacob's marriage was a secret, still technically illegal, and she didn't wish to know what might occur should anyone become aware of their child's existence. Tina had promised that, the next time she was in New York, she would campaign for a repeal of Rappaport's Law – but for now, they had to be careful.

One Saturday, just a few weeks before her due date, Queenie had decided that she'd visit Jacob over lunch; though he would be working throughout the whole day with little chance of a break, it would surely be a nice surprise to see her in the bakery – even better, she'd be able to pick up a few pastries to satisfy her cravings.

As was typical for a Saturday morning, the bakery was busy; it seemed that as soon as the sign in the door had flipped to display the word 'open', a crowd of customers had surged inside and begun marvelling at all of the creatively designed pastries on display. Children were begging their parents for a Niffler or a Demiguise cookie, grown men chortling over the sight of the Erumpent muffins, women amazed by the Occamy scones. Queenie couldn't help but smile to herself, rather pleased, at the sight of so many people enjoying her husband's wonderful baking.

 _How creative!_ , she heard one woman think in amazement, **_Where_ **_does he get his ideas from?_

 _Absolutely ingenious,_ one man thought with a grin, _Clever man, this Kowalski_.

Queenie was always so proud when she heard people thinking such nice thoughts of Jacob and his bakery – he really deserved all of the praise he received, especially after all of the hard work he had put into acquiring his loan and getting the business set up.

"Hello, Mrs Kowalski!" She heard Henry, the shop-boy, greet politely; he was restocking a rack with some freshly-made pierniks and paczkis. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Queenie smiled at him sweetly. "It is, isn't it?"

"Would you like me to get you your usual order, ma'am?"

"How nice of you to offer," She said, shaking her head. "But I think I'll wait for Jacob, thank you."

Henry nodded and returned to restocking; Queenie joined the end of the queue to the till and continued to look around at all of the mouth-watering creations available. It was always very difficult choosing which pastries to get (though, admittedly, she was never charged – a perk of being married to the owner) because they all looked so delicious – and they always were, of course.

 _I think a babka would be lovely_ , she thought to herself eagerly, resting one hand on her bulging tummy, _don't you think, baby? A nice spongey babka…oh, and a couple of faworkis too_ …

 _Is that woman pregnant or…?_

Queenie blinked as she heard that thought; it seemed to have come from a woman, though she couldn't tell who. When she looked around she found that no one was looking at her – she couldn't tell who had thought it.

 _What an odd thing to think_ , she mused, turning her attention back to the pastries; she moved forwards as the line did, suddenly more eager than ever to get her pastries. _Now where was I…oh, yes, I'll get a babka and two faworkis – oh, and I can't leave without some serniks either, those are always delicious-_

 _She looks like she could be pretty with all of those blonde curls, but she's puffy – and waddling!_

It wasn't a kind thought at all to hear, and it made Queenie's smile disappear completely; who on earth could be thinking such a thing? And was it about her?

 _No, of course not_ , she told herself, _there are plenty of girls with blonde hair in here_.

The baby gave a kick, and her spirits lifted again – she always felt unbelievably happy when the baby kicked, making her feel like she was floating. It was a strong kick too, she thought fondly, firm and healthy.

 _Oh, I remember her_ , A different person was thinking suddenly, _She's always here – used to be a real stunner, a bombshell…now she's got herself knocked up. It's almost sad_.

Queenie's mood sunk to a new low – she wasn't overweight, she would argue, just pregnant! How could these people not see that? Besides, it wasn't like she was _that_ large – swollen and a little sore, yes, but not overly _large_ …no, she _wouldn't_ get upset over this – she would _not_ let her hormones get the best of her…

The second voice was continuing, echoing in her mind: _…Why do women always look so fat when they get knocked up? Even the pretty ones don't look so nice anymore – and she used to be a real doll-_

"Queenie!" It was Jacob; he was grinning, face lighting up at the sight of her – the queue had moved along, she realized, and now it was her turn.

She suddenly felt rather unwell. "Jacob, I…I'm sorry," She mumbled, looking away from him. "I'm…I'm feeling rather light-headed…I think I need to lie down…"

His smile immediately faded into concern. "Oh? Well, you can take a seat out in the back room if-"

"No," She interrupted quickly, shaking her head. "I…I think I'll go home and…and have a nap."

Before he could say anything else Queenie had fled the bakery, holding back tears – as emotional as her hormones were making her, she would wait until she got back to the apartment to cry.

* * *

When Jacob came home, he was carrying a bag filled with her favourite pastries and a small bunch of flowers that he had bought from the florist down the street; she wasn't cooking dinner, like she usually was, and he couldn't help but frown.

"Hey, Queenie? I'm home!"

There was a long silence, and he briefly wondered if she _wasn't_ home – but then he heard the quiet reply of, "In the bedroom" and felt himself relax.

He shrugged off his jacket, leaving the flowers and pastries on the kitchen table, before making his way to their bedroom; she was curled up on their bed with a mug of cocoa on the side, a book lying forgotten beside her.

"You feeling any better, Queenie?" He asked, somewhat worriedly, as he sat down on the bed opposite her. "When you ran out today, I thought something was _really_ wrong – I was gonna leave early, but then there was the rush hour, and-"

"I'm fine," Queenie interrupted, not even looking at him. "I just felt a little queasy is all."

He knew her so well by now that he knew when she was lying – and this time, she was _definitely_ lying. "Alright…err…I brought you some pastries back, if you're hungry; I made the serniks 'specially for you, just the way you like 'em."

Her smile was half-hearted – he knew when she _really_ smiled because it always lit up a room – and her eyes were somewhat _sad_. "You're sweet, honey, but I think I'd better lay off the pastries for a while."

This immediately sent alarm-bells ringing in Jacob's head because this was _Queenie_ – she loved his baking more than anything, loved being the first person to taste something new that he was planning to sell. For her to turn down pastries – _serniks,_ her absolute favourites, at that – was unusual.

"I'm just not hungry," Queenie told him, clearly having heard his thoughts. "The baby is making me feel rather…rather _full_."

"Queenie…" He leaned in closer to her, trying to read her facial expression. "Look, if something's the matter then you can tell me..."

She was silent for a very long moment, seeming to consider his words; when she finally looked up at him, he was alarmed to see that she was actually close to _tears_.

"Oh, Jacob…in the bakery today, I…I heard people, and…" She gave a sniff. " _I'm fat_."

Jacob frowned at her, rather unable to understand how she could have come to that conclusion. " _Fat_?"

Queenie nodded. "A-And I'm…I'm bloated and swollen and…and just _look_ at me!"

He _did_ look at her – he was always looking at her – and he was still unsure as to whether she was being serious. "What are you talking about? You're gorgeous!"

"No, I'm not!" She denied tearfully. "I'm fat and swollen and…and I can't see my feet…and…"

"Queenie…"

"And I _am_ being serious! I'm absolutely _disgusting_!"

By this point, Jacob had had quite enough. "No," He told her firmly, and his hands were suddenly cupping her face. "No way! You? You're absolutely beautiful, Queenie!"

Queenie was studying his face through her tears, reading his mind – and he really didn't mind because she _needed_ to know just how much he adored her, how much he loved her. "How can you think that?" She asked after a few seconds, her tone disbelieving. "How can you _possibly_ still think I'm beautiful when…when I'm fat and heavily pregnant, a-and waddling and…and _nothing_ fits me…"

"Because you _are_ beautiful," He told her firmly; his mouth curved into a small grin as he glanced down at her abdomen. "You're carrying our child, Queenie; don't you see how _remarkable_ that is? This little bump here is gonna be _our_ baby – _ours_."

How she had come to the conclusion she was anything _but_ stunning and wonderful was beyond him; all through her pregnancy she had been positively _glowing_ , her body getting plumper – and he _loved_ it. Why was she so self-conscious about herself when all he wanted to do was worship her?

Queenie looked close to tears again – but this time they were happy tears, disbelieving in an entirely different way. "Jacob…"

"It's true," Jacob stated. "Every single bit of it; I love waking up every morning and getting to see you lying next to me – even more now with the baby. I love looking at you and knowing that I'm lucky enough to call you mine."

"And…And you don't mind that I'm…I'm _bigger_?"

"Not one bit!" He proclaimed – she would know it was the truth, just reading his thoughts, but it felt more reassuring to say it verbally too. "You're even _more_ gorgeous to me like this."

She was, she really was; she had _always_ been attractive, of course, but being pregnant had increased it, causing certain parts of her to grow – and not just her stomach. No, it thrilled him when he looked at her and saw _certain_ parts of her anatomy were also getting larger to prepare for motherhood; it made his blood pump just thinking about it.

Without warning, Queenie had thrown herself at him; her arms were tight around his neck, her lips pressed feverishly against his, and he found himself responding enthusiastically – one hand on the small of her back, the other moving to rest in her soft curls. He could have stayed like this forever with her and died a happy man.

"Oh…Jacob," She breathed when they finally broke apart for air, and a few tears were running down her face. "You really _do_ believe all of those things…I love you."

"Yeah? I love you too," Jacob agreed with a small grin, but his mind was focused on _other_ things: like how the baby bump was pressed between them, like how her lips tasted of the strawberry tart she probably ate for lunch, how the lovely curves of her body were pressed against him in all of the right ways.

She laughed quietly, already leaning in for another kiss. " _Show me_ , Jacob: show me how much you love me."

Part of him wanted to _ravish_ her, tear her clothes off and get right to it – but then he wanted to reassure her of his affections, let her know for sure just how much he loved her. With that in mind, he gently lowered her onto the bed and leaned over her, careful not to put any unnecessary weight on top of her bump, and started pressing soft kisses against her neck. The way she mewled at the contact, tossing her head back and letting his name slip between her teeth, drove him absolutely _wild._

It didn't take very long for things to progress from there; the loose maternity dress she had been wearing was soon discarded and left on the floor, closely followed by her underwear and his clothes – they could be taken care of later, but for now _this_ was far more important. Usually they had fun with their love-making, giggling and laughing together as they tried new things whilst still being romantic; this time, however, was slower and more meaningful – more small little kisses, lingering touches and reassurances.

It didn't escape Queenie's notice when he placed one hand on her abdomen as the other kneaded her breast, and she arched beneath him; his thoughts were adding to her pleasure, she found:

 _God, she's perfect…how did I get so lucky? And then this baby…I can't wait for this baby. The fact she's got my baby inside her is amazing – this is our baby…I still don't believe it sometimes, that we're married and having a kid. I really am the luckiest guy in the world_.

Sweet thoughts weren't uncommon to hear from Jacob, but all the same it made her feel ridiculously loved and happy. It thrilled her even more when he was vocal about his feelings, either by telling her sweet nothings and letting out pleasured noises – she knew that sometimes he was self-conscious about how he looked, particularly when naked, but the fact that he was allowing himself to enjoy their love-making warmed her heart.

It was no wonder that it didn't take long for her to reach the edge, clutching onto her husband's shoulders and crying out his name as her orgasm hit her like a wave. Everything felt ten times more sensitive to touch now that she was in the last few weeks of pregnancy, from her breasts and nipples to _down there_ , and the increased sensation coupled with knowing how much he loved her sent her spiralling into a climax. Jacob wasn't far behind, thrusting a few more times before groaning her name and collapsing on top of her.

They lay there for some time – minutes, hours, days, neither of them were quite sure – before Jacob quickly moved off of her.

"I'm sorry, I forgot…the baby-"

Queenie shushed him fondly, cuddling into his side; she lay her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat as it gradually started to slow down to a normal pace. "I don't mind, honey; I barely felt a thing."

His arms were firm, strong, around her; one hand was already drifting to caress her belly again, soft and gentle, as he let out a shaky breath. "You…You're _magnificent_ , Queenie, you know that?"

She couldn't help but laugh a little to herself, spreading one hand against his chest as it moved up and down. "Magnificent…that's a new one."

"It's true," Jacob insisted sincerely. "Every bit of it: you _are_ magnificent. I love you, Queenie – I love you and you need to know that."

"I know," Queenie told him softly, closing her eyes as she smiled to herself. "I love you too."

Those awful comments she had heard in the bakery suddenly seemed silly; how could they be true when her husband – her wonderful Jacob – loved her so much? No one else's opinion really mattered, not if he saw her as beautiful and perfect.

Lying there, held tightly in his arms as they drifted off to sleep, it was more than easy for Queenie to really feel _magnificent_.

* * *

 **Yes, I kind of think that they're probably a couple who try new things in the bedroom department – I'm not talking kinky fifty-shades-kind-of stuff, but you know…different positions maybe? I mean, Queenie is probably confident generally when it comes to sex – I don't know, she comes across that way to me… I don't know, I'm blushing really hard as I type this.**

 **Also, I did a _little_ bit of research (not in a gross way, just to be realistic) and found out that a lot of pregnant women had more intense climaxes than when they weren't pregnant so…I'm going with that because why not?**

 **I know I said fluffy with implied smut but for some reason it ended up being slightly more explicit than I intended – I'm surprised by myself! I mean, it's still more fluff than smut and it's tamer than the Newtina wedding night one I wrote but…well.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed!**


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